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James Tate - The Wrong Way Home

All night a door floated down the river.
It tried to remember little incidents of pleasure
from its former life, like the time the lovers
leaned against it kissing for hours
and whispering those famous words.
Later, there were harsh words and a shoe
was thrown and the door was slammed.
Comings and goings by the thousands,
the early mornings and late nights, years, years.
O they've got big plans, they'll make a bundle.
The door was an island that swayed in its sleep.
The moon turned the doorknob just slightly,
burned its fingers and ran,
and still the door said nothing and slept.
At least that's what they like to say,
the little fishes and so on.
Far away, a bell rang, and then a shot was fired.

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Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 7879 times | Comments and analysis of The Wrong Way Home by James Tate Comments (5)

The Wrong Way Home - Comments and Information

Poet: James Tate
Poem: The Wrong Way Home
Volume: Worshipful Company of Fletchers

Comment 5 of 5, added on April 30th, 2014 at 9:35 AM.


chin from Japan
Comment 4 of 5, added on January 4th, 2012 at 8:20 PM.

Phenomenal breakdown of the topic, you shulod write for me too!

Justis from Ethiopia
Comment 3 of 5, added on January 3rd, 2012 at 4:55 PM.

I actually found this more etnertaiinng than James Joyce.

Egypt from Luxembourg

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